Dreams
by spazztic-author
Summary: The Fade, where everything is real but not. Those blessed with the magic can manipulate that world of deep secrets, even invade the dreams of others. But what happens when dreams are repeatedly broken into? Could they influence feelings in the real world?


_**I own nothing of the Dragon Age universe, except**_ _**Zeeza.**_

The first time she'd found him in the Fade, it was accidental. Every time after that however, she sought him out. She told herself it was to watch over him, to keep the demons from mistaking him for a mage, but honestly she was just curious.

'What do templars dream of?' She wondered, hovering just outside his dreams. She would push up against the barrier of his dreams, but she wasn't strong enough to ever breach it. Whether this was because it was a _templar's_ dreams she was trying to invade, or just that his will was stronger than hers, she never did find out... But she enjoyed the seemingly harmless challenge in attempting to break into those most secret and guarded of dreams.

That, and of course just watching over him in the Fade. His dream-self radiated a peculiar feeling that seemed to grow stronger with each passing night, a sensation she didn't recognize. It was a more pleasant alternative compared to wandering alone in the Fade, risking a demon attack.

Even after she was forced to leave the tower because of Jowan's foolish decisions, she tried to visit him in his dreams. Atleast when they were both asleep, anyway. But... the nightmares following her Joining seemed to bleed into his dreams.

That was when she broke through the first time.

She was trying to hide from the nightmares when she found him again, but they would not be fooled and followed her to her sanctuary. They broke through his barrier, and instead of the nightmare consuming her it swallowed him up. She was suddenly back in the Harrowing chamber, there but not-there, and she had no choice but to watch the dream unfold around her.

It was darker than she remembered, and there was no one in the tower but him and... her lifeless body. She gasped, stepping back as if he could see her reaction, could be affected by her surprise and horror. This is what he dreamed of? Killing her? This is what generated that strange, comforting sensation she always felt when she was near his sleeping consciousness?

No... the feeling was different, agonized.

He was kneeling over her, wishing nothing more than to touch her and bring her back. But what has been done cannot be undone. His sword was cast to one side, the blade splattered with blood when he had thrust it through her middle.

He had no choice! She was gone and some, **THING**, had tried to claw its way out, to wear her body like a grotesque glove... a puppet masquerading as if it were truly her. No, he couldn't let that happen. She was too good for such a shameful thing.

But, oh Maker, why did it have to be him?

She was overcome by his grief, such a powerful thing that it seemed to be a being all its own. He hadn't run her through, though; she had been successful in her Harrowing. Why was he being so tormented by things that never were?

"Shh," she stepped towards him and leaned down, touching his shoulder gently. She didn't know why, but she just kept going, sliding her hand down and across his chest plate, hooking her arm around to his other shoulder and laying her free hand over it. She pressed her cheek to his and squeezed his shoulders. "Quiet, templar. This is but a nightmare. I am alive-- you know this."

This was _his_ dream, she realized, and despite her status as a Harrowed mage, she was powerless against the suggestions his unconscious mind planted in hers once her true self was assimilated into his dreams. When she realized this, of course she struggled, but this was his world. That was why she could not enter his dreams before: by entering, she was submitting to a will that was not her own, something she never did even in the conscious realm.

If she could not break free then perhaps she could direct it, maybe banish the nightmare she inflicted upon him. It had been meant for her, after all. Maybe not this particular nightmare, but she had led it here to him. She was responsible for it, and it wasn't fair forcing him to endure an attack meant for her. At least, not alone. She relaxed, letting the dream take its course.

"You! But... you--!"

"Shh," she squeezed again, nodding to the dead doppleganger that finally began to fade away, "this is a dream."

He shifted, trying to break her grip, but something compelled her to keep the contact between them. "You should be--"

"I am alive." She turned her head so she was looking him straight in the eye. He stopped half-heartedly trying to shake her off, his weakened fortitude allowing him to simply revel in the kind tenderness of her gaze, the gentle weight behind her touch. He was two breaths from bridging that distance between them, instinctively knowing that that would be infinitely better than this... whatever _this_ was.

He acted like he was going to cross that fine line, and he leaned forward. She was compelled to do the same, but she fought it this time. She pulled back just a touch, resting a hand on his cheek. The combination of her resisting the dream-will and the unanticipated contact seemed to shake the dream, dissolving it around them, until she was left holding the empty space of the Fade.


End file.
